


Blankets

by Deadlydollies13



Series: Fictober 2019 [2]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Autumn, Blankets, Crowley is Always Cold, Cuddling & Snuggling, Fictober 2019, Fluff, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M, October, South Downs Cottage (Good Omens), fall - Freeform, soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-02
Updated: 2019-10-02
Packaged: 2020-11-15 10:54:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20865029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deadlydollies13/pseuds/Deadlydollies13
Summary: There is nothing better than a lazy Sunday with homemade breakfast and a mountain of blankets.





	Blankets

**Author's Note:**

> 2 for 2 Fictober 2019!

There were two types of “nothing” days at the South Downs Cottage. One was a day that nobody saw anybody. The entire Cottage was silent, save for perhaps the muffled sound of Eve’s laptop or the flipping of pages. Crowley slept the entire day away and then some, Aziraphale was cooped up in his study with a stack of books, and Eve rarely left her room except to grab some more snacks. 

The other type of day was spending time together in the sitting room, watching a movie and cooking meals together. It was _that_ type of day. Those days were best when it was chilly out, so they could all snuggle close to one another on the sofa in the softest blankets imaginable. And it was a Sunday, everyone’s favorite day. 

Eve had started the tradition that every Sunday morning, she would cook a huge spread for breakfast. Pancakes, waffles, French toast, eggs, bacon, ham, toast, homemade preserves and jams, fresh-squeezed juices, anything Aziraphale and Crowley desired. Even Crowley, who rarely ate, looked forward to Sunday mornings. 

“It’s _freezing!_” He said when he walked into the kitchen that morning, wrapped in the heavy duvet from his and Zira’s bed. He slid onto the bench at the kitchen table, where Eve had already begun to set out the food. 

“I just lit the hearth, dear, give it a chance to warm up.” Zira placed Crowley’s mug in front of him filled with fresh hot coffee. Zira’s usual T-shirt and flannel tartan bottoms had been switched out for a long-sleeved tartan set, and a Sherpa throw wrapped around his shoulders as he tended to butter the toast. 

“You wouldn’t be so cold if you’d just dress a bit warmer instead of worrying about how you look when nobody sees you.” Eve chimed in. She was the queen of pajamas. She always had on matching sets with ridiculous patterns and would have lived her entire life in them if she didn’t have anywhere to go. And the damned blanket covered in puppies that was draped over her shoulders was almost as old as her, but Aziraphale, realizing how important it was to her, always made sure to use just a small miracle to mend any tiny holes and keep it nice and soft for her. 

“I’m a _sssnake_, Eve, I’m always cold.”

“I’m sure if they could, snakes would wear jumpers too. Now, how do you want your eggs?”

“Scrambled,” he grumbled.

Breakfast was, of course, eaten wrapped in blankets. The fireplace was taking its good ‘ole time warming the house up. Crowley was just eating for the sake of trying to get something warm inside his body.

“Go put on a damn sweater, Dad.” Eve said.

“Never. Goes against my aesthetic.” He took another gulp of piping hot coffee.

“What bloody aesthetic? It’s just the three of us, nobody _cares!_ But, we’re _going_ to care when you catch a damn cold!”

“I don’t catch colds,” he grumbled and shoved a slice of French toast into his mouth. Eve shook her head and turned away from him, while Zira looked between the two of them, knowing exactly who would win the dispute in the end. 

With full stomachs and a still-cold cabin, the three— four if you count Abel— curled up together on the sofa under a mountain of blankets. Fleece and Sherpa and flannel all meshed together to create one big heat-retainer. The sofa was not large by any means, but the family could squeeze together if they didn’t care for boundaries that day, which they rarely did. 

Aziraphale sat in the middle, with Crowley’s head on his chest and Eve’s resting on his thigh. 

“Angel, just let Eve choose what to watch.” Crowley has suggested they watch a movie. Eve created a monster when she showed them how to use the Firestick. The only problem was: they could never agree on anything. Aziraphale always searched for some book-to-movie adaption. While the 2005 version of _Pride & Prejudice_ was lovely, they had seen it a dozen times since moving to the cottage. Crowley always favored the most obscure things, from Mary Poppins to action to the most gruesome horror films that made Eve faint at the sight of any blood, real or fake. 

But when Eve chose the movie, it was usually something that appeased both parents, even if they would have never opted to pick it. 

“Fine,” Zira said and handed the remote to Eve. She immediately turned on _Young Frankenstein_, which of course, appeased both her parents, and it was in the Halloween spirit.

The house was still cold, even as Crowley kept adding wood to the fire. “I hope it’s not going to be like this all season.” He said. 

“There may be a hole somewhere creating a draft, dear.”

“No, there wouldn’t be. I would’ve -“ Eve sat up and glanced into the kitchen through the archway, straight at the back door, which was wide open. There was the screen door, of course, but it was _only_ that: a _screen_. The warmth from the fire had been sucked out of the house all day. “_Fuck._”

**Author's Note:**

> Come hang out with me on [Twitter](http://www.twitter.com/EmilieCrossan1) @EmilieCrossan1


End file.
